


Camping Cantata

by phabulousphantom



Series: Sheet Music [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Anal Sex, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Musicians, klance, sheet music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phabulousphantom/pseuds/phabulousphantom
Summary: Lance and Keith attend the annual McClain family summer vacation. This year, they're going camping.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Sheet Music [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1363756
Comments: 42
Kudos: 114





	Camping Cantata

**Author's Note:**

> HI!!
> 
> This is literally just family vacation fluff, lol. I alluded to the McClains (plus Keith) going camping in Theme & Variations, so now I have written a little story about that. Because I am unable to can't. Yanno how it is.
> 
> ENJOY~!

The mountains in late July were absolute perfection. High enough to escape the heat, warm enough that nights required only a light jacket. Summer flowers bloomed up and down the meadows. They’d had a good year for snow, and a pretty wet spring, so everything was green, green, green. Lance took a deep breath as he stepped out of the hatchback—

—and immediately inhaled a bug.

“What’s the matter?” Marco teased as he got out of the front passenger seat and Lance hacked. “Air too clear for you?”

Lance couldn’t answer because he was dying, so Marco slapped his back and made it worse. Eventually, Lance managed to choke out, “There was a bug,” his eyes all watery and pathetic. Marco just laughed.

“Of course there’s bugs,” he replied. “This is _nature_ , city boy.”

Spitting, Lance cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, which of us is the Eagle Scout?”

“Like two million people are Eagle Scouts,” Marco replied. The comment still irked him, so he went to the trunk to start hauling stuff out. “You’re not special.”

“Aw, what’s that, Tenderfoot? I can’t hear you over my majestic eagle call.”

“Don’t bald eagles sound like car alarms?” Keith asked, disembarking as well, pushing his hair out of his eyes and putting on a baseball cap. He was lucky he looked so damn cute in his camping outfit. Lance was willing to forgive the impertinent comment.

“They have that in common with Lance,” Veronica added.

The four of them were the last to arrive at the campsite. Marco, Veronica, and Lance had had work bullshit to finish up in the morning, and Keith had needed the extra time to pack, so they’d missed the big family caravan through the mountains, but the bonus was that Lance hadn’t had to help back the trailer into the site and deal with the hookups. He hated the stupid trailer, and was thrilled that the lights were on inside when Teresa opened the door to check on the fuss.

“Luis set out your tents, but you have to put them up yourselves,” she called.

“Nice to see you, too, Mami,” Veronica replied.

“Lance, will you check the trailer hookups?” Teresa added, ignoring Veronica. “I don’t think Papi did them right.”

Lance gritted his teeth, but managed a cool, “Sure, Mami. Let me just—”

“The others can unload the car,” she said. They were, in fact, already doing just that. Keith gave Lance a grin. Marco did, too, but his was mean.

“Go on, you majestic eagle,” he said. “Fly high.”

Grumbling, Lance headed for the trailer. He found his dad around the back, still fiddling with the hose, muttering a few choice words under his breath. Lance leaned against the trailer to watch him for a second.

“You planning on brushing your teeth with that water?” he asked.

Ramón jumped about three feet back from the trailer, but when his eyes landed on Lance, they flooded with relief.

“The _white_ hose is for drinking, Papi,” Lance said.

He helped attach the damn thing and made sure the right filters had been installed. He also checked the electricity hookup, just to be safe, but that one looked good. Ramón clapped a hand on his shoulder once they’d finished.

“Thanks, _cariño_.”

Between Marco, Keith, and Veronica, the hatchback was empty by the time Lance returned. They were in the process of moving stuff into the camp, so he went to join them and nearly collided with Silvio as the kid came bounding out of the woods with a giant stick in his hands, his hair already a mess.

“Tío Keith!” he cried. “Did you bring your guitar?”

“I sure did,” Keith replied, lifting up an instrument case from the pile around the car.

“Want me to put it in the trailer with mine?” Silvio asked. “Abuela said in case it rains that’s the safest place.”

“That’d be great, Silvio, thank you,” Keith said. He held out the case, but drew it back when Silvio reached for it. “But only if you promise to play with me at the fire.”

Silvio’s whole face lit up and he nodded vigorously, so Keith handed him the guitar with a chuckle. Silvio cradled it like precious cargo and carried it very, very carefully into the trailer. Keith looked at Lance and smiled, radiant. Lance couldn’t help a smile of his own. He swatted the bill of Keith’s cap.

“Good time so far?” he asked.

“ _Great_ time,” Keith replied.

“Don’t worry,” Veronica said, hefting her duffle bag onto her shoulder. “We’ve got a whole week to ruin it for you.”

Keith laughed, and the four of them finished carrying their supplies into the campsite. The site was pretty spacious, and pretty private—tucked away at the end of the loop of lots. The mountain face backed it, made the area a steep slope. The whole thing was covered in trees and had lots of little paths that led to the spots for pitching tents. Luis had already set up the big four-man for himself and Lisa and their kids. Not too far from them was a little clearing with a tent in a bag. Lisa waved as they approached.

“That’s you and Rachel, Veronica,” she said. “Marco’s just up the way. Keith and Lance get the honeymoon suite.”

She led the two of them up the hill to a site deep in the trees a good distance away from the rest of the camp. The elevation was enough to give the spot a view of the canyon, not quite overlooking it, but almost. Another tent in a bag sat at the edge of the clearing.

“Luis checked, so everything should be in there, but holler if you’re missing pieces.”

“This is beautiful, Lisa,” Keith said. He set down his stuff to look around. “Are you sure you guys don’t want this spot?”

Lisa shook her head. “Nah, it’s not big enough for our tent. And Silvio will probably get scared in the middle of the night and want to sleep in the trailer.” She chuckled. “Better for us to be close.” She gave Keith a wink. He grinned at her. “We’re gonna head over to check out the lake later, once camp’s all set, if you guys wanna come?”

“ _Hell_ yeah,” Keith said, and, with a laugh, Lisa left them to it.

Lance unpacked and unrolled the tent, but Keith just stood and stared.

“Words cannot describe how badly I want to watch you set that up by yourself,” he said.

“I mean, you can, but it’ll take forever,” Lance chuckled.

“I can’t believe I get to have a boyfriend who plays trombone _and_ knows how pitch a tent,” Keith replied, mostly to himself.

“You wanna help me pitch this one, or are you gonna pitch one of your own?”

Laughing, Keith whacked him. “I’ll help,” he said.

“Can you get the poles out and put them together?”

The two of them worked as a succinct little unit, staking the corners, sliding the poles into their slots, securing the guy lines, putting up the rain tarp. The ground was hard, so it took a hammer to get the pegs in, but they weren’t missing any pieces and the tent went up without a problem. Keith took off his boots and hauled his stuff inside—sleeping pad, sleeping bag, pillow, duffle, backpack, blanket—then hauled in Lance’s and beavered around in there, setting everything up like a kid in a pillow fort. Seeing Keith excited to camp sort of reignited Lance’s love for it.

“That looks super cozy, babe,” Lance said while Keith sat in the entrance and pulled his boots back on.

“Do I get to watch you build a fire by yourself?” he asked, grinning.

Lance grinned back. “You betcha.”

“Tío Keith!” A breathless Nadia came scurrying up the hill to their camp. “Tío Lance! Abuela and I are unpacking the food. Is your tent finished? Can you help?”

“For sure, Nadi.”

She nodded, hurried two steps down the trail, then stopped, turned around, and grinned at both of them. “Tía Veronica said there’s _toads_ at the lake.” With that, she disappeared.

Lance and Keith went down and helped store the groceries in the expanse of cabinets inside the trailer. There was practically a metric ton of food, but they were a party of thirteen, so they were guaranteed to go through it. They were nearly finished with the groceries when Pop-Pop and Rachel pulled up in Rachel’s car with even _more_ bags.

“Emergency smores run,” Rachel explained.

Literally six of the bags were dedicated to graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows. Lance and Keith helped unload.

“This might not be enough,” Lance said. “Keith’s a smores vacuum.”

“You know what, that’s true,” Keith laughed.

“Oh, good, Rachel’s here,” Marco said as he entered the picnic area where they were unloading. “Veronica and I set up your tent. We gotta plan the snipe hunt for Silvio and Nadia.”

“Snipe hunt?” Keith asked.

Lance and Marco looked at each other, their eyes flashing, wicked grins uncurling on their faces, but they quickly wiped the expressions away. Lucky for them, Rachel was ready with a steady answer.

“They’re little rodents,” she said. “Kind of like a potgut, but smaller.”

“And nocturnal,” Marco added. “They’re super fun to catch.”

“Nadia sounded pretty excited about catching toads, so I bet she’ll be stoked about snipes,” Keith replied. Lance and Marco exchanged evil grins again.

“Oh, definitely,” Marco said.

By early evening, the campsite was sorted. Luis and Teresa and Marco threw together some sandwiches for everyone, packed a cooler, and the whole party headed to the lake, Grandma and Pop-Pop setting the pace out in front. The lake wasn’t far—one of its shores was part of the campgrounds—so a paved, leisurely stroll brought them there in a matter of minutes.

The green water was broad and sparkling. Clean, but not clear. A few other families were hanging out at the picnic tables or romping along the stone beach. Across the way, where the water got marshy, somebody was fishing. Further out, a pair floated in a couple of bright orange kayaks. The McClains found a table and set up their food. Nadia and Silvio dragged Veronica down to the water to look for toads immediately.

While they ate, Marco talked up snipes. After dinner, they sat and watched the sunset over the lake. Some of the family walked back with Grandma and Pop-Pop before it got too dark, but Lance and Keith wandered along the shore, Keith wading in the freezing water, Lance finding flat rocks to skip.

“I’m so glad I could come,” Keith said.

Lance chuckled. “Hopefully you’ll feel that way by the end of the week, too.”

“I will.”

He looked so certain, but not at all naïve. He knew exactly what sort of mess and madness he’d agreed to join. That was what he’d wanted. That was what he loved about spending time with Lance’s family. It was what they all loved, to tell the truth.

Lance laced their fingers together as they walked.

“I’ve never _camped_ camped,” Keith said. “We’d only ever go up the canyon for the day.”

“You guys went to Aspen, though, didn’t you?”

“You think _my_ family _camped_ in _Aspen?_ ” Keith laughed. Lance conceded the point. “Takashi got _lost_ in Aspen because he couldn’t figure out how to turn around in skis.”

Lance cracked up. He started laughing so hard he had to stop moving or he was going to slip and fall. Keith stood and laughed as well, part memory, part proximity to Lance’s hysterics. Wiping tears, Lance regained himself enough to speak.

“ _God_ , Shiro’s kind of an idiot sometimes, huh?”

“He’s an idiot _all_ the time,” Keith replied, shaking his head. “I don’t know how he’s fooled so many of you.”

Giggling, Lance calmed. He took a moment to appreciate Keith in the fading canyon light. The shape of his face under the bill of his hat. The contentment in his expression. The newly purchased, largely unnecessary hiking shorts and jacket from The North Face he had insisted on buying for the trip. With a flex of his hand, Lance could feel the guitar callouses on the tips of Keith’s fingers brush his skin.

Here was somebody Lance had seen at his lowest. Who had seen Lance at his lowest, too. Here was somebody who had pursued Lance as thoroughly as Lance had pursued him. Somebody sweet and smart and sexy who called him on his bullshit. Somebody who had changed him, and allowed himself to be metamorphosed in turn.

Here was Keith.

“We’d better get you over to the smores fire, Noo Noo,” Lance said, giving Keith’s hand a little shake. “While we can still see the road.”

“Noo Noo?”

“The Teletubbies vacuum.”

Keith clobbered Lance over the head with his hiking boots.

“Ouch! Hey!”

“You _miserable_ piece of trash,” Keith laughed, walloping Lance again. Lance tried to block, but wasn’t particularly successful.

“Those are heavy, Keith!”

“Good! Let that be a lesson to you, dipshit.”

“The green one’s name is Dipsy, actually.”

That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was forgetting how friggin strong Keith was. He chucked his boots and grabbed the front of Lance’s shirt in the same move, then yanked him forward and taekwondo-ed him into the lake. Lance slipped on the rocks when he landed and fell ass-first into the water with a splash.

Stunned, Lance stared up at Keith.

“Purple belt, one. Eagle Scout, zero.”

“This is not a war you wanna start, Kogane.”

Keith put his hand down to help Lance up, but as soon as Lance was on his feet, Keith swept his legs out from under him and sent Lance right back into the water.

“Purple belt, _two._ Eagle Scout, zero.”

Lance scrambled to grab Keith’s ankle to try and take him down, but Keith darted out of the water and up the beach. An attendant in a reflective vest came out of the little building where you could rent kayaks and stuff and said, “Everything all right?”

“You okay, Lance?” Keith asked.

Grumbling, Lance hauled himself out of the water. “Yeah…”

“We’re good,” Keith told the attendant with a smile. “Thanks so much. Sorry for the disturbance.”

The attendant nodded. “That’s okay. Just thought I’d check…”

“For sure. Hey, how much does it cost to rent a paddle board?”

“Twenty-nine dollars for the day.”

“Oh, that’s great. Thank you.”

One charming smile later, Keith had diffused the situation like a pro. The attendant returned to the booth to close it. Lance dripped his way up the beach to stand next to Keith, who turned that charming smile on him.

“We’d better get _you_ to the fire, Dipsy,” he said, “so you don’t freeze.”

On the walk back, wet socks squishing in his wet boots, Lance told Keith that snipes were easy to find if you could see their eyes because they glowed in the dark like a cat’s. Keith spent the whole way peering into the woods and the bushes lining the road, and that did make Lance feel a little better. When they reached the campsite, the McClains were trying and failing to get a fire started in the pit and summoned Lance to take a look.

Lance threaded his fingers together and flexed his arms out to crack his knuckles.

“Nobody panic,” he said. “The expert has arrived.”

“Why is the expert wet?” Veronica asked.

“Keith didn’t like his new nickname,” Lance replied. He put on a headlamp so he could see what the cuss he was doing and got to work poking around the fire pit.

“He called me Noo Noo, so I dunked him in the lake,” Keith said. Marco turned to look at him appraisingly. Keith laughed. “What?”

“I can see it,” Marco said. “It’s the eyes.”

Keith socked his shoulder.

“And the long, tubular nose.”

Keith socked him again—twice, in fact—and Marco scurried away giggling. Teresa patted the open spot next to her on the double-wide camping chair and, once Keith sat down, wrapped her arms around him to hug his head to her chest and stroke his hair.

“Don’t listen to them, _lindo_ , you have beautiful eyes,” she said.

“I never said Noo Noo wasn’t beautiful,” Lance put in. He had a good structure for the wood going and looked around for the lighter.

“This joke is getting away from you _very_ quickly,” Keith laughed.

“Do you think Noo Noo is beautiful, Tío?” Nadia asked, screwing up her face.

“No—”

“He _did_ have a crush on Roxanne from _A Goofy Movie_ ,” Veronica said.

Keith squawked, delighted, and Lance protested, “ _Everybody_ has a crush on Roxanne! Have you _seen_ Roxanne? I am not in the minority here,” while everyone continued to rib him. Grumbling, he lit the fire and fanned it with a paper plate until the bigger logs started to catch.

“There,” he said, standing. “See if I help you again, jerks.”

Nobody paid him any mind, attentions turning to divvying out roasting sticks and smores supplies and adjusting chairs to an appropriate distance. Nobody even said thank you. Lance was about two seconds away from being genuinely annoyed when his eyes met Keith’s and Keith looked from Lance to the fire and back to Lance, smiling a particular smile. Lance decided to forgive the last two minutes.

“I’m gonna go put on some dry clothes,” he said. “Make me a smore?”

“My way?” Keith asked.

Lance smiled. “Your way.”

He kept the headlamp for his walk to their tent. Inside the cramped space, he changed and hung the wet clothes on a line to dry. As he slipped on his sneakers, he decided to grab a pair of sweatpants for Keith. Even by the fire, the evening would get chilly.

Emerging from the tent, Lance encountered a moonlit view of the campsite and the canyon before him. Shadowy pines and scraggly cliffs. The noise of his family around the campfire below him. Crickets all around. Overhead, the sky was an ocean of stars and scattered clouds, just like it had been in October when he and Keith had celebrated Keith’s birthday.

Lance was turning twenty-three this week. He’d always resented the gap-year he’d been forced to take after high school—determined to go to New Altea, unable to afford it, unable to secure the necessary scholarships in time. Everyone else from his class had started college, and he’d started working, terrified that he might never stop. But that year had passed, he had saved, had nabbed those scholarships, and here he was, four years later. He couldn’t imagine having attended New Altea without Hunk as his roommate, without Matt in his cohort. That gap year had brought him more good things than bad in the end, but, then again, a little distance always made things clearer.

When Lance returned to the fire, Keith had that smore ready for him. Lance exchanged the sweatpants for it with a kiss. They settled. Keith inhaled smores like the vacuum he was, and once he’d finished, Silvio brought out their guitars and they tuned them together, Keith letting Silvio take the lead, offering gentle correction and praise.

Keith was such a lovely person to sit and watch. The friendly, familiar way he spoke with Luis and Lisa about Silvio’s progress. The intent he took to listen to Pop-Pop’s song requests. When Keith looked at someone, he _really_ looked at them. Devoted his entire attention. He looked at people with love, and Lance almost couldn’t wrap his mind around it, considering what Keith had been through.

Together, he and Silvio played a handful of teacher-student duets—the silly shit that spanned an absurd number of genres and was the staple of beginner guitar. Silvio was pretty good, though, and—with Keith’s encouragement—played a few more complicated solos as well.

“Tío’s better than me,” he said.

“Only because I’ve been playing longer,” Keith replied. “I started guitar when I was your age. You could be better than me in ten years.”

“That’s a long time,” Silvio replied.

“Exactly.”

Silvio’s expression brightened, and Keith smiled back. Lance restrained his own thoughts on how hard Silvio would have to work to match Keith—Mr. Natural Aptitude Meets Ridiculous Dedication—much less _surpass_ him, but who knew? Keith was a great teacher, and Lance had never seen Silvio focus on anything the way he focused on guitar.

“Will you play something, Tío?” Silvio asked, setting his instrument aside.

Keith started, looking a little embarrassed, but obliged. Lance loved that dichotomy in him. The same person who put on a corset and garters and sang “Sweet Transvestite” to a sold-out crowd of strangers was shy playing an acoustic guitar in the mountains for his family.

The song was slow and sweet—a little twangy and a little sad. Lance had heard Keith working on it for a while now, and he was certain it wasn’t finished (or, rather, that Keith would never be happy with it) but it was beautiful in its simplicity. The McClains listened, some of them shutting their eyes, all of them settling in to enjoy the evening air, the smell of nighttime rainclouds rolling in, the week ahead, and each other’s company.

As the fire burned low, people peeled away to get ready for bed. By the time only embers and ash remained in the pit, Keith and Lance were alone. Lance drowned the fire. Keith shut and latched his guitar case and returned it to the trailer.

Together, they made their way up to their tent, struggled to change with Lance’s clothing occupying all the standing room, but eventually snuggled into their sleeping bags side by side.

“It’s kinda funny that you’re, like, _right there_ , but also…not,” Lance chuckled, extracting an arm to brush Keith’s hair from his eyes.

“I know,” Keith replied. “I don’t like it. I wish we could zip the sleeping bags together.”

Lance sat up. “You’re a genius.”

He extricated himself from his own bag in a hurry and motioned for Keith to do the same. Chuckling, confused, Keith obliged, and Lance flipped over his sleeping bag and unzipped the whole thing with a flourish. It was a fortunate happenstance that they’d decided to borrow two of the family bags. Being the same brand, the zippers would probably fit together.

“Is this a thing people do?” Keith laughed.

Lance shrugged. “I dunno. If we ever wanna get our own gear, we should go with a two-person cot. That way we’re off the ground, too.”

He finished Frankenstein-ing the sleeping bags and looked over at Keith. Keith’s expression had changed, opening into something soft and exposed. That happened sometimes—whenever Lance mentioned silly domestic stuff offhand.

“You like that idea?” Lance asked, smiling.

Keith nodded. His voice was quiet as he followed up with, “I wanna buy camping stuff with you.”

Lance crept forward so he could wrap his arms around Keith. He forgot how much things like that meant to him. Innocuous symbols of dedication like signing their names on the same lease or agreeing to attend big events as a pair three months in advance. Little dedications that operated on the assumption that they would still be together because of course they would still be together. Lance often took that stuff for granted. Keith didn’t.

“Let’s do it,” Lance said. Leaning back, he took Keith’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “We can find some dog-friendly places and take Kosmo.”

“We might have to invest in a real car,” Keith chuckled.

Outside, the first sparse raindrops started to fall.

“I was thinking about that,” Lance replied. They climbed into the doublewide bag together and snuggled close. “Maybe another van, so we can use it for camping but also, like, Upright and Respectable.”

Keith smiled, teeth showing. “You want to turn us into boring adults?”

“How is owning a _band van_ boring?”

“Do I have to remind you that you play _jazz?_ ”

Lance scowled, Keith laughed, so Lance shoved his hand in his face and said, “Out. You’re banished back to your own bag.”

The rain started in earnest, beautifully noisy against the leaves and the tarp over their tent. They wouldn’t get wet. Lance had been careful setting up. Keith wrapped his arms and legs around him in a vice grip.

“No, don’t banish me,” he said.

“Take back what you said about jazz.”

Keith made a contemplative face like he wasn’t at all willing to take it back, just weighing his options. Lance freed an arm and unzipped the top of the bag.

“ _Nooo_ ,” Keith cried, clinging tighter.

“Get out, you beast.”

But Keith did not get out. The rain turned heavy, and Lance hauled himself from the sleeping bags, bringing Keith with him by virtue of the clinging. He couldn’t get any more free than that, though. Not without some serious effort. He tried to wiggle out of Keith’s grasp, but only really succeed in planting himself on top of the guy on top of the sleeping bags. Keith had pinned Lance’s arms to his sides.

“Purple belt, _three._ Eagle Scout, zero,” Keith said.

Lance went limp, letting his whole weight land on Keith, who laughed as the air in his lungs got pushed out. They didn’t move for a while, listening to the rain, Keith’s hands moving to run his fingers through Lance’s hair instead.

“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it…how people end up in certain places…” Keith whispered.

“It is funny,” Lance agreed.

He propped himself up, and Keith let his grip slide to allow the movement. Lance gazed down at Keith—his beautiful face and perfect mouth—and marveled at how a year ago, he hadn’t even known that this person existed, and now he couldn’t imagine his life without him. He was camping with Keith and his family. He lived with Keith and Krolia, had a dog, played piano in a jazz band that got paid real money. A year ago, he’d planned to audition for orchestras after graduation.

“What was your planned trajectory?” Lance asked.

Keith shrugged. “I never really had one of my own. The one that got laid out for me was identical to Takashi’s, except I probably would have ended up a soloist or in a quartet. The way things were starting to pan out, though, before shit hit the fan, I think I probably would have been poached before graduation.”

“Well, _la-dee-dah_ ,” Lance said with mock indignation. “So fancy, so talented. Would you have liked that?”

Keith nodded. “I would have liked it, but I don’t think it would have been good for me.”

That was not the answer Lance had expected. Raw surprise overtook his expression.

“Wow…” he said, stupidly.

Keith smiled. “There’s plenty of road ahead, too,” he said, brushing his fingers across Lance’s cheek. “Who knows where we’ll be in five more years, or ten.”

“Together, though,” Lance said.

Nodding, Keith replied, “Together.”

They gazed at each other. Keith got this look in his eyes that Lance knew well. In a breath, the space between them was gone, Keith having drawn Lance down to touch their lips together. Lance smiled, wrapping him up in a tight hold.

The rain continued, as it probably would all night. They kissed for a long time, hands in each other’s hair, down each other’s sides, under each other’s clothes, undressing as lazily as they shifted against each other, softly seeking after pleasure. It was wonderful to feel Keith’s lips part beneath his. Wonderful the heat of skin on skin. Wonderful the gentle rise of arousal between the two of them until Keith was humming at every touch and Lance’s whole body sang to be the cause of it.

He would never get over this intangible _thing_ between them. The way Keith flushed soft red. The way his eyes looked when he looked at Lance. The way he kissed, responded, spoke, and touched that made Lance feel like the most important person in the world.

“Do you want to?” Lance asked, his fingers unassuming at the entrance to Keith’s body.

Keith nodded. “Yes.”

They’d come prepared, because of course they had, knowing themselves well enough to know they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Lance retrieved lube and a condom, and when he turned around, Keith had repositioned himself on his belly on a towel, his hips canted slightly to raise his bottom into the air. He smiled when Lance looked at him, and the sight sent Lance scrambling for him, making a brief detour to press a few kisses to his mouth before taking a position behind.

He prepped Keith carefully, slowly, enjoying the heat and the low, keening sounds Keith made at his touch. Keith relaxed, opened, and Lance slid inside with one fluid motion that made them both groan.

It was rhythm, then. Timed motion and fingers in flesh. He took Keith in his hands and sank into the sensation of Keith thrusts against his palms, matched with his own.

“Keith…” he said helplessly, his forehead falling against Keith’s neck.

Breathless, Keith laughed. The sound was so full of joy and love.

“What?” he asked.

Lance could only shake his head, half-lost in the heat. Keith reached a hand around to card his fingers in Lance’s hair. Lance buried his face against his neck and back.

They moved in perfect tandem to the end, unraveling each other until Keith came with a beautiful moan and Lance followed right behind him. For a moment, they lay still, then Lance turned onto his side and pulled Keith with him, wrapping him up in his arms. They caught their breath and basked in each other’s warmth until their sweat cooled and clothes became necessary in the high elevation chill.

Cleaning up, redressing, they climbed back into the doublewide sleeping bag and Lance zipped it shut. He smiled as Keith settled next to him and brushed his hair back out of his eyes.

“I’m excited about the next ten years,” he said.

Keith kissed the tip of his nose. “Me too.”

They snuggled close, listened to the gentle rain in the woods around them. Lance began to drift off, until Keith’s quiet voice brought him back.

“Lance…?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I… I know what snipes are…” he said out of nowhere. “I was gonna plan some elaborate prank to make you guys feel bad for trying to trick me, but mostly I just want to scare the shit out of Marco, and I think I’m gonna need your help.”

Lance’s heart thudded, and he pulled Keith closer to just squeeze the living daylights out of him. Every time he thought it wasn’t possible to love Keith any more than he already did, Keith had to go and say things like that. Lance smacked a big, sloppy kiss to Keith’s cheek. Keith grinned at him through the dark.

“Is that a yes?” Keith laughed.

“You want me to wrest Marco’s snipe hunt right out of his hands _and_ scare him shitless?” Lance replied. “That’s gonna be a big _hell yes_ from me, dawg.”

“Is there cornstarch in the food stash in the trailer?”

A wild grin unfurled across Lance’s mouth and he took Keith’s face in his hands to kiss him full on the mouth.

“Food coloring, too,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about trying to find some of those beginner guitar teacher/student duets to make a joke playlist, but I have ultimately decided not to subject us to that. You're welcome.


End file.
